


Grey Joggers

by sweetestsorrows (katschako)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Big Dick Draco, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, Healer Hermione Granger, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Fanart, It's Sweatpants Season, No Angst, Oral Sex, POV Draco Malfoy, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28678251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katschako/pseuds/sweetestsorrows
Summary: All Draco wanted was to sleep in with his witch on their first day off in weeks; however, she always got up far too early for his tastes, and his efforts to fully exhaust her the night before clearly failed. Slipping on his new joggers, he set out to find Hermione, and hopefully seduce her in the process. After all, there were few things that turned her on as much as seeing him in a pair of thin, grey bottoms. For his part, Draco could never get enough of her.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 20
Kudos: 324
Collections: Dramione Favorites





	Grey Joggers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jaxxinabox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaxxinabox/gifts).



> Last night, the amazingly talented Jaxx did an AMA and livestream of her art for the Department of Fandom Discord. As she drew [Draco in grey sweatpants](https://www.instagram.com/p/CKfuSkLAutN/?igshid=ycv3hth23zto) and the lovely members of the server spouted off ideas surrounding the art, the inspiration for this story was born. Jaxx linked [this](https://www.instagram.com/p/CFPezi_g5r1/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) piece in the chat as well, which also served as inspiration for one of the scenes in the fic. Please support her on [Tumblr](https://jaxx-in-a-box.tumblr.com/) and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/jaxx_art_box/?hl=en)!

Draco woke to bright morning sunlight streaming through the window. With a thick, sleep-filled groan, he pulled the blanket further over his head and rolled towards her side of the bed. His arm blindly reached for his witch as he sought out her warmth, only to be met by cold, empty sheets. If his muscles ached from the activities of the night before, he knew she must be tired, too.

After hours and hours of sex, he hoped he might disrupt her rigid sleep schedule. Still, Draco should have known that Hermione would be up early with a cheery attitude and endless energy. It was of little consequence that it was the weekend, or a blessed, rare day off, or that they had hardly slept at all. 

Hermione was an early riser, ever since they became friends in the middle of Eighth Year. Even though she was hardly sleeping at all at the time, but she always woke up with the dawn.

The first time he stumbled upon her in the Common Room, it nearly startled Draco out of his skin. It was the middle of the night, and he had woken after an exceedingly terrible dream of snakes and red eyes and cruel, reedy laughter. As the walls of the room closed around him, he leapt out of bed and shrugged on a pair of loose pyjama trousers before slipping out to the area shared by the students who returned for an extra, final year.

At first, he didn’t see her. A mountain of blankets shielded Hermione as she settled into a corner of the couch that stretched in front of the fire. It wasn’t until she squeaked when he almost sat down on top of her that Draco realised he wasn’t alone. After slowing his racing pulse and overcoming the shock, Draco apologised for intruding and attempted to leave. A small hand shot out from her cocoon before he could take a step.

Hermione insisted that the room was large enough to share.

It warmed him to know that she wasn’t repulsed by him or fleeing in fear, though maybe he should have expected as much. Hermione and Harry had spoken on behalf of Draco and his mother at their trials over summer. Draco was confident that he wouldn’t have been assigned such a light sentence or allowed to complete his education without the intervention of the Golden Duo.

Foolhardy Gryffindors, through and through, always desperate to champion and defend a lost soul. Nevertheless, he was thankful that they saw past his abhorrent behaviour as a child, and understood the extreme duress he was under when he joined the Death Eaters.

Despite her intervening on his behalf, doing what she believed was right and actually wanting to spend time with him were entirely different things. While Draco might be able rationalise why she would even deign to help her childhood bully, he couldn't think of a single reason why she would be okay sharing the quiet Common Room with him.

That first night all he could do was steal glances at her. He knew there were so many transgressions that he needed to beg forgiveness for, but he couldn’t find his voice. So, instead, he studied her as nonchalantly as he could. It was clear she was haunted if the bags under her eyes were any indication. Though, Draco doubted there were many involved in the war who didn’t have some sort of scarring, whether it was emotional, physical, mental, or all of the above. 

The second night he found her in the same position, but he was more prepared. His apology was still stuttered and awkward, and Draco was tempted to just walk away several times. Thankfully, he summoned some rare modicum of courage and made it through, regardless of how difficult it was. The glassy look in her eyes when she _thanked_ him for acknowledging his past behaviours and choices made it all worth it. A shaky alliance started after that, which pivoted into an unexpected friendship. 

That was how Draco knew that regardless of how little sleep she got, Hermione woke at the same time every morning, just as the sun was peeking over the horizon. She ran two and a half kilometres, dragging Draco along every now and then. Afterwards, Hermione showered, dressed, and snuck to the Great Hall ahead of the crowds. She enjoyed a quiet, light breakfast as she reviewed assignments or readings for the day. Or, if it was the weekend, she set up at her favourite table in the library.

At some point, between watching her and getting to know the witch he hated for so long on principle alone, Draco fell in love with her intelligence, her kindness, and her drive. Of course, she was also beautiful, but Draco had been aware of that fact for some time even if his younger self was loath to admit it. Still, he didn’t gather the courage to ask her on a date until the year was nearly over, and against all odds, she agreed. 

He remembered the day so clearly. They both received letters of acceptance to the Healer programme at St. Mungo’s. Hermione flung her arms around his neck in congratulations and laughed wildly as he spun her around in celebration. When he finally set her on the ground, her hands settled on his neck instead of falling back to her side. His fingers engulfed her waist, gripping her tightly even though she was steady on her feet.

Draco tried to resist, but his eyes were drawn by some invisible force to her pink lips. As he quickly and guiltily looked back to meet her gaze, he found she was staring his lips as well. He should have kissed her then, but instead, his tongue and lips moved without his permission as he blurted out an invitation to celebrate further that night by going to dinnerin Hogsmeade.

The way her face lit up the moment he finished the question would forever be seared into his memory. It was one of the best moments of his otherwise miserable teenage years. He and Hermione had been together ever since. They had become nearly inseparable before, but now he was on the receiving end of her kisses, in addition to her friendship.

When they graduated, he found a flat in the city near the one she shared with Ginny. It was also close to the hospital, which was an added benefit. Better yet, it was far away from the ghosts and memories that twisted the Manor into a dark and ugly place. Draco wanted to move in with her, and he thought Hermione might have agreed. However, he needed to do right by her. 

He doubted that Hermione cared about archaic pureblood traditions. Yet, the fact of the matter was that few in the old-fashioned wizarding society would take their relationship seriously if they lived together before marriage. It didn’t matter what the old codgers thought of Draco. His name had been through more in 18 years than most experienced in a lifetime. He knew he would spend the rest of his life re-establishing his family’s standing.

However, he did care what people thought of Hermione. She had high aspirations in medical research and a desire to marry elements of Muggle and magical practises. Draco would be damned before he got in the way of them, simply because he wanted to be around her all the time.

All the same, he was either at her place, or she was at his nearly every night. He wouldn’t have it any other way. After the first time he slept beside her, Draco knew he would never sleep well without her. In the final year as trainees, he proposed to her and they married a year later, as their internship came to an end. Throughout various stages of the strenuous programme, Hermione maintained the same rigorous sleep schedule.

It didn’t matter if she was placed on an evening or an overnight shift, she rose at the same time every morning. Sometimes, Draco wondered whether she just overcame the need for sleep, somewhere along the road. As it was, in the four years of dating and one year of engagement, Draco could count the number of times Hermione slept in on one hand. 

Further, if he was truthful, all of those occasions were because _he_ insisted on staying in bed. He would wrap his body around hers and nestle Hermione’s head beneath his chin as his fingers ran up and down her spine and combed through her hair. Once in a long while, Draco succeeded in lulling her back to sleep. Usually, she humoured him for a few minutes longer before wiggling from his grasp and flitting around as she started her morning routine.

Nothing changed in the two weeks that passed since they moved into the new townhome, though he hardly expected they would. Sometimes, it was hard to fully appreciate that they were actually married. It had all happened with so little pomp or ceremony that it felt as if very little had changed. 

The wedding itself was intimate. Neither Draco nor Hermione wanted to wait any longer to be married, and there would never be a good time in their careers to take the time to plan it all out. Though his mother offered, he and Hermione elected on a small gathering anyway. Their union was a celebration of their love, a ceremony to bind their magic, and there was no need for a lavish society affair.

They weren’t even able to take enough time off from their residency for a proper honeymoon. Fortunately, Hermione agreed to utilise the Malfoy house-elves, who now worked for a wage, to help with the move. Otherwise, Draco might have spent the weekend after his nuptials settling into their new home instead of ravishing his lovely wife.

The Saturday and Sunday following their wedding were two mornings that Hermione _did_ sleep in, and it was by her own choice.

Draco took a great deal of smug satisfaction for his role in her exhaustion.

However, the following Monday, it was right back to the precise schedule necessitated for two Junior Healers. As residents at the hospital, there were increased responsibilities and an endless stream of patients and students that required their attention.

Life went on as it had before he married his witch. He teased her throughout the day as they led their respective cohorts of trainees through rounds. The stresses of the programme were intense, and only the brightest witches and wizards were accepted. Still, there was a fair amount of babysitting required of Junior Healers, especially for the first year students. Nevertheless, Draco found more than time to compete with her for the best cases, even going so far as to steal them from under her nose when she was otherwise preoccupied.

In return, Hermione ate half his lunch every day because she couldn’t be bothered to grab her own from the cafeteria, and she was too proud to ask their house-elf, Pipsey, to pack her one. If Draco was lucky, they would find time to sneak in a quick romp in one of the rooms intended for staff persons who needed a short nap after long shifts. However, even being able to use those rooms for their intended purpose and nap with his witch was enough to brighten his day.

There were some notable differences, though. Now when Hermione smiled at him from across the floor, he would catch a glint of her simple wedding band as her fingers clutched her clipboard. Some of the older witches who Draco saw for chronic conditions lamented at seeing his matching band, the teasing disappointment evident now that he was officially off the market. They bemoaned the fact at the loss of an eligible, handsome, smart bachelor, and Draco easily humoured them. Most importantly, at the end of the day, he got to leave the hospital hand-in-hand with his wife. 

It took a bit of bribery and a lot of smooth-talking to get the Senior Healer in charge of their unit to schedule Draco and Hermione for the same shifts. Yet, with endless resources at his disposal, it was hardly a bother to secure season tickets for the man to the Montrose Magpies. If it meant Draco got to spend days and nights with his witch, it was well worth it.

Yet, despite his in with their supervisor, neither was immune to working weekends. It seemed like every time they had a day off, one or both were called in for an emergency.

As such, this was the first morning that they had entirely to themselves. There was some rule at St. Mungo’s about only working a certain amount of days in a row, which meant that even if the sky fell, Draco and Hermione would not be disturbed.

Draco had celebrated the occasion by pulling orgasm after orgasm from Hermione throughout the night. He hoped, _foolishly_ , that it might wear her out enough to warrant a bit of a late start to the morning, but no such luck.

Reluctantly, he rose from the bed and shuddered as the cool morning air brushed against his skin. There was no need for pyjamas of any sort the night before, which meant every bit of him was exposed. Padding over to their closet, Draco slipped on his grey joggers.

Hermione had bought him a pair when they first started dating, under the pretence that Muggle clothing was far more comfortable than the stiff styles worn by wizards and witches. It didn’t take long for him to realise that she just liked to ogle the imprint of his cock through the thin fabric.

The bottoms he slid on were new, and he was sure that her reaction would be worth the trouble of having to navigate the Muggle world without her.

His last ones had finally ripped after years of use. Of course, it had to happen while Hermione was at the hospital attending to a charm gone wrong. That meant that Draco would have to venture out on his own to purchase another pair. It was her fault for introducing them to Draco, to begin with, and now he found that he couldn’t stand to wear anything else around the house. 

These new bottoms were significantly tighter than his last, though it was entirely by mistake. He hadn’t quite understood the letters and tiny writing on the thin little cloth tucked into the waistband. When Draco returned to their home and tried them on, it became evident that they were probably a size too small. Yet, rather than admit the error or go through the hassle of returning them, he rolled with it. He had a feeling that his wife would appreciate the change, which made it all worth it.

The smell of bacon wafted towards him, and Draco followed the trail towards his witch. As he grew closer, he could hear the soft sounds of Hermione rummaging. She tried to stay quiet when she inevitably woke before him. Yet, Hermione was not graceful nor adept at making little noise despite her many gifts and talents.

Pausing at the kitchen entrance, Draco pulled his lower lip between his teeth as he bit back a smirk at the sight that met him. Hermione was clad in one of his shirts, the button-up that Draco wore the night before when he took her out to dinner. It looked much better on her petite frame. The height difference between them meant it should have entirely engulfed her, hanging down to her knees. However, in her current position, it brushed along the edge of her arse, revealing a pair of lace knickers.

Hermione had her arm stretched far above her head as she struggled to grab a new box of her favourite tea. Her hair was piled haphazardly atop her head, held in place by her wand that she could have used to summon the tea she was so desperately reaching for.

Despite her aptitude for magic and the way she excelled at the most complicated spells and charms, there were times like these in which Draco wondered whether she forgot that she was a witch. It was a bit humorous, but Draco knew Hermione would just as quickly hex him if he dared laugh. Besides, if he drew her attention to him, he wouldn’t get to see the way her bum jiggled as she leapt for the box that was just out of reach.

He would also miss out on the adorable whoop Hermione released and the enchanting little victory dance she began when she managed to grab the tea, without the aid of magic. Her hair fell from its perch, and her wand clattered to the floor, but she didn’t pay it any mind. She was too caught up in her celebrations.

It was in the process of spinning in said dance that Hermione finally noticed him. She paused immediately as a soft blush crept up her cheeks as if he hadn’t seen her in far more compromising positions.

“How long have you been there?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose and furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance at being caught, but the hint of a smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth told Draco it was all a show.

“Not long.”

“Did I wake you up? I tried to be quiet.”

“No, it was the blasted sun.”

“How dare the sun do such a thing?” Her grin grew. “Doesn’t it know who your father is?”

It took every ounce of self-control not to laugh along with her, but Draco managed to twist his sharp features into a disdainful look.

“I see you’re feeling feisty this morning. I’m not going to have to punish you, am I?”

He crossed his arms across his scarred chest and straightened to his full height. It was impossible to miss the way her gaze roamed his frame, lingering on the bulge so distinctly highlighted by the tight cloth covering it. As if she were placed under a spell, Draco watched as her eyes glazed over and her mouth fell slightly ajar. 

It wasn’t until he coughed that she looked back at his face. His brow arched and the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk as he watched arousal and guilt flash across her features. Even before he knew her intimately, Hermione was never good at masking her emotions.

“See something you like, Granger?”

She coughed. “Are– Are those new?”

Draco ran a hand through his hair, which he knew was tousled just the way she liked it. Usually, he kept it perfectly coiffed. It was only her who got to see it this way. Hermione’s eyes followed the movement and stayed locked on his hands as he twisted his wedding band between his thumb and pointer finger, all the while studying her. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lip before she began to tease it with her teeth.

Her eyes jumped back up to meet his and Draco felt a sense of satisfaction at the way her darkened gaze drank him in.

Even after all this time together, she was as insatiable for him as he was for her.

“They are new,” he finally answered with a shrug.

The tension in the space between them was palpable as her eyes flickered back down to the joggers before meeting his heated gaze once more.

“When did you get them?”

“Last weekend, when you were busy at the hospital.”

“They’re tight,” she said.

Draco chuckled. “They don’t call you the brightest witch for nothing.”

He was rewarded for his teasing when her nose scrunched in disapproval of the moniker.

“You know I hate that title.”

“I do, but it’s so easy to get a rise out of you.”

Quickly closing the distance to her, Draco attempted to pull her into his arms, but the little minx evaded him. She dodged his advances and returned to the stove, with a final glance of exasperation and amusement cast over her shoulder. However, if she thought it would be that easy to evade him, Hermione hardly knew her husband at all.

Undeterred, Draco followed her and folded his forearm across her waist while his fingers brushed her hair over her shoulder so he could kiss her neck. He pressed his lips to the column of her throat before latching onto her earlobe. He sucked and nipped it as his hand lifted the front of the shirt and dipped beneath the waistband of her knickers.

“Malfoy, I’m trying to cook.”

It was evident that she was trying to issue a rebuke, but it came out as more of a weak whine as his fingers slid across her clit.

“And I’m trying to get my witch off.”

His mouth descended to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Draco teased the skin with enough pressure to leave a mark as he traced slow, lazy patterns across her folds. She was slick with arousal, and he had hardly touched her. It made Draco want to bend her over the counter and fuck her until she was screaming his name, but he knew she would be cross if he didn’t let her finish her task.

She whimpered as he dipped his fingers just barely into her cunt. “Draco—”

His movements were still far too languorous to bring any sort of release, but he enjoyed teasing her.

“Finish the bacon, and then I’ll make you come,” he murmured against her skin.

With an impatient huff, Hermione snapped her fingers and turned up the heat on the stove. She was clearly put out by his denial, but it was hard for her to maintain her ire as Draco continued his attentions to her neck. He kissed the spot below her ear that drove her wild as he pumped a finger into her tight heat. A tiny mewl escaped Hermione as her head fell back against his shoulder.

Her eyes drifted closed, but she managed to continue tending to the pan. His witch was nothing if not impressive in her abilities to multitask. Electing to up the stakes, Draco added a second finger to her cunt as the arm around her waist drifted up. He pinched at her stiff nipple with just the right amount of pressure.

In all their couplings, Draco had memorised the exact stimulation Hermione needed to fall apart. Typically, he used this information to see how many times he could bring her to orgasm before getting off. Today, he would exploit his knowledge of her body to push her to the edge.

His fingers were now buried deep in her cunt, and his palm was pressed to her clit. Draco smirked as her hips began to rock against his hand. He switched to appreciate the heavy weight of her other breast before twisting the nipple between his fingers.

All the while, his mouth never strayed far from her neck. Hermione was like putty in his hands. It was truly incredible that she managed to finish cooking without burning the bacon or setting the stove on fire.

The moment the meat was plated, Draco bit down on her neck and began to fuck her relentlessly with her fingers. He pushed her closer and closer towards her orgasm, determined to make her shatter around him. When she did, he lifted his head to watch her face as she slumped into his hold. The waves of pleasure were evident in Hermione’s expression, and it was the most beautiful sight Draco had ever seen.

When she turned her face towards his, Draco captured her mouth with his own. He kissed her greedily, possessively, as if he hadn’t spent the entirety of the night before devouring her entirely.

She spun in his embrace, one hand coming to rest against his chest and the other tangling in his hair. He slung his arm around her waist and held her to him tightly as his fingers gripped her hip.

“You’re an incorrigible arsehole.”

Her lips were still pressed to his, and Draco could feel her smile against his mouth.

“That’s true,” he agreed, stealing another kiss. “But, I’m _your_ incorrigible arsehole.”

Hermione laughed and hummed in agreement as he pulled her lip between his own.

“Besides, you love me just the way I am. If I put any effort into reforming myself, you might lose interest,” he continued.

“Oh, that’s a lie, and you know it. I could never,” Hermione said.

“Still, better not to risk it.”

He pillowed his mouth against hers once more, determined to steal her breath, but she pulled away just far enough to send him a menacing glare.

“You fingered me while I was cooking.”

“You seemed to enjoy it well enough, love, and don’t try to gloss over the fact that you were dripping before my fingers ever slid into your pretty little cunt.”

“You bought these joggers for the precise purpose of seducing me! How else was I supposed to react? You come down here with your messy, yet entirely perfect bedhead. You give me that look, you know the one, and don’t even try to deny it. Of course, I’m going to have a reaction.”

“First of all, I bought these by accident. There was no nefarious intent.” He kissed her chastely, even as she scoffed and watched him with suspicion. “I’m serious! It isn’t my fault that they hug my cock quite so tightly—”

“So, you do know how alluring they are!”

Draco rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Of course, I do, witch. You leer at me every time I wore the ones you bought me. The moment I slipped them on, you become practically lecherous.”

Hermione glared at him and crossed her arms, but didn’t dare argue. They both knew she had no basis on which to deny his statement.

“As for all the rest of it, I don’t know what to tell you. I woke up, put on the bottoms, and came down to find you. However, how I looked when you finally realised I was here is hardly my fault. You’re wearing my shirt and when you jumped your arse bounced ever so enticingly.”

He flashed her an impish grin before bending to press a kiss to her nose. Then, he kissed her forehead, right on the wrinkle between her brows, and he ran his fingers along her ribs. She was wildly ticklish, and it hardly took more than the ghost of a touch before she was laughing in his arms. All signs of irritation were wiped from her features, just like that.

“You know, I love it when you wear my clothes.”

Hermione smiled up at him as her arms tightened around his neck, one hand burrowing in his soft hair. 

“Yes, I know. I don’t understand it entirely, other than it being some weird male drive to claim what’s yours… Or, something misogynistic along those lines, right?”

A cheeky wink told Draco that she was kidding, but it didn’t stop him from growling and nipping her lip in retaliation.

“I just think you look sexy in it, it’s as simple as that. In fact, my shirt’s never looked this good.”

He ran his tongue along the tender skin of her lip before dipping into her mouth.

“Oh, I don’t know... It looked damn good yesterday when it was stretching over your muscles.”

Her hands traced patterns on his biceps and against his chest before trailing down his abs and settling there. Hermione watched him with a hungry look in her eyes as she gently guided him backwards until his legs hit their breakfast table. 

Pushing him into one of the chairs, she dropped to her knees.

Draco thought, or perhaps he hoped, that she wouldn’t be so put out by his early teasing to torture him in reciprocation. He should have known better. All the new position did was allow Hermione a closeup view of the thick outline of his erection, which had been straining against its confines since he stepped behind her at the stove.

Yet, instead of releasing his cock and putting Draco out of his misery, Hermione elected to study it. Her eyes were dark as she traced the profile with her fingers, before running her nose lightly across it. Then her lips followed suit. She mouthed at his length, a mischievous glint in her eyes every time she glanced up at him.

Draco knew better than to rush her. This meant that his only option was to try not to combust in his trousers like a prepubescent boy as his wife ran her tongue coquettishly against his clothed cock. He could feel the heat and wetness of her mouth seeping through the flimsy fabric, and it was maddening.

She smirked up at him coyly before her lips caught around the tip, which was pressed against his leg.

“Teasing isn’t so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?”

He choked out an unintelligible response when her nimble fingers stroked at his bollocks before teasing his erection that was straining to be freed.

“Should I be kinder than you were?”

Draco stifled a groan as her nails stretched across his abs before gently tracing along the scars that stretched across his chest. When Hermione tweaked his nipple, it was impossible to suppress the shudder that coursed up his spine.

“Well? Do you want me to suck your cock, husband?”

The filthy words spilling from her lovely mouth were enough to drive him wild. When they were coupled with the term that so definitively described him as belonging to her? It was more than he could handle.

“I’m waiting for your answer.” She squeezed his length for emphasis.

“Yes, gods, please suck me off already.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at his desperate plea but moved to pull his joggers down past his bum. Lifting his hips so she could pull the trousers around his ankles, Draco sighed in relief when her warm, wet mouth closed around the head of his cock.

Then, she pulled off of him with a pop. Draco groaned in protest but was promptly rewarded when she licked a stripe along the base of his length before sliding him back between her lips. Her hand reached for his blindly and guided his fingers to twine through her curls. She glanced at him expectantly a final time before dipping down until Draco felt himself hit the back of her throat. Hermione wrapped her fingers around the base of his erection, the part of him that she couldn’t fit into her mouth.

As she stroked him firmly in time with her lips, every twist of her wrist fed the fire that danced across his skin.

Hermione released a muffled moan when he bucked up into her mouth and held her in place with his hand. When he allowed his self-control to slip and began guiding her head with both of his hands, Hermione slipped a hand between her legs and into her knickers to rub frantically at her clit.

It was one of the hottest experiences, to know that pleasuring him with her mouth fed her arousal. Draco could feel his orgasm drawing closer with every dip of her head. 

As much as he wanted to come down her throat, or across her face or chest, the drive to be inside her was stronger. He slowed her movements before pulling her away from him and taking a moment to revel in what a pretty picture she painted.

Her eyes were wide and glazed, the need in them evident despite the orgasm he gave her not long ago. A rosy flush coloured her cheeks, neck, and chest at her exertions. Her hair was a wild mass, even more chaotic than usual due to his fingers threaded through the thick curls.

There was a shiny coat of saliva across her pouty lips, which were parted as if she were just waiting for him to fuck her mouth once more.

Draco ran his thumb across lower lip as he appreciated the sight of his beautiful, intelligent, powerful witch on her knees for him. That she trusted him and loved him enough to make herself so vulnerable to him was more than he deserved. 

At his core, Draco was selfish, and he revelled in the knowledge that she was this way only for him. He had learnt to care more about others in his time loving Hermione, and he knew he was a far better man than the boy he used to be. Still, when push came to shove, Draco maintained a healthy sense of self-preservation and consideration for his own needs.

That meant he would take whatever it was that Hermione offered him, for however long she deemed him worthy.

Bending to press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth, Draco drew her into his arms. He stood and stepped out of his bottoms entirely as he lifted and set her against the table. Without further pretence, he dropped to his knees and tore her knickers from her. His tongue lapped at her cunt and sampled the sweet nectar of her arousal, his cock pulsing with every mewl and moan that escaped her.

He could have stayed with his face buried between Hermione’s legs for hours, but a sharp tug at his hair interrupted him, just as his tongue dipped between her folds. He gazed up at his wife to find her eyes blazing in a way that took his breath away.

“Please, Draco. I need your cock.”

He would never deny her. Draco stood and tugged her closer to the edge of the table before lining his cock against her cunt. She twined her legs around his waist and rested her heels on his arse, using the leverage to draw him into her.

The sensation of being buried in her cunt was the closest thing to a religious encounter Draco had ever experienced. Her velvet walls stretched around him to accommodate his length as if she was designed for him, and he for her. It felt perfect. She was divine. The molten heat that radiated from her surged through his veins and warmed his entire body as he began to thrust shallowly.

Her grip on his forearms tightened to a near painful level. Hermione cried out when his cock brushed against the sensitive spot within her.

Draco drew her into his arms and crushed his mouth to hers. Another wanton moan escaped her at the taste of herself on his tongue, and Hermione began rocking her hips to meet his thrusts.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he murmured as he buried his face into her hair. 

Every word was emphasised with the skin of his hips slapping against her fleshy arse. Hermione keened as he drew her legs up to rest on his shoulders. The position meant she was practically folded in half, but his witch was flexible. It was one of the many sexy attributes she possessed, and Draco was reminded once more of how lucky a bastard he was. 

The change in angle meant that he could thrust even deeper and as her whimpers became cries of his name, Draco knew that the position was exactly what she needed.

“Your cunt is absolutely exquisite. I wish I could stay buried inside you all the time.”

Her walls clenched around him as Hermione’s head fell back. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she chased after her high. Draco could feel the beads of sweat dripping down his temple and cheek as he continued to fuck her relentlessly.

“My perfect witch.” Another thrust. “My perfect wife.”

He pressed his face to her neck and nipped the skin before soothing it with his tongue.

“Come for me, love,” he commanded, and she did.

Hermione convulsed as waves of ecstasy crashed through her. His name was a prayer on her lips as he drove his cock into her, fucking her through it. As her orgasm subsided, his hips stuttered to a stop. He sheathed himself as deeply into her as he could before spilling his seed.

Draco might have cursed, or called out her name. It was hard to know. The intensity of his orgasm hit him so strongly that he didn’t know what reality was other than the feeling of her wet heat and the way it was wrapped so tightly around him.

It felt impossible that she would be his and give herself to him entirely. Yet, somehow, fate had smiled on him. The gentle trail of kisses against his shoulder and chest was evidence of that fact. 

As he came back down, he slumped against her. Hermione’s legs slipped from their perch and rested on the table once more, bracketing his thighs as she stroked her fingers through his hair and down his back. He pushed off of her with a groan, missing the warmth of her body the moment he broke contact.

“Gods, how is it that I can never get enough of you?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but the feeling is mutual. I’m glad I soaked this morning and drank some healing potion before I started breakfast.”

Hermione smiled before twining her fingers with his. She brought his hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles before sliding off the table. Her knees buckled, causing Draco to lurch forward and catch her.

“Maybe we should take the rest of the day off—” She paused to laugh at his petulant pout. “Let me finish before you start whinging.” 

“You were going to say we should take the rest of the day off from sex.” 

Draco flashed her an accusatory glare, silently challenging her to disagree.

“From sex like _that_ , what we just did, yes. We both need a rest. Healer’s orders.”

His frown deepened. “I’m a Healer, too, you know.”

“I know, but seeing as I was the top of our class, you have to listen to what I say.”

“What? When did we decide on that?”

“The night of your stag party,” she said with another laugh.

Draco paused to try and remember that evening, but it was a rather tricky task, considering how much liquor Blaise had plied the group with. He knew there was a point in the evening when he and Harry sang karaoke together, but only because Blaise was kind enough to take photos. Hermione was watching him with a bemused twinkle in her eye.

“You insisted that the boys drop you off at my flat at the end of the night.”

He had a vague memory of demanding that Theo and Blaise, who were practically carrying him at that point, take him to see Hermione. Harry staggered behind the trio, singing a Muggle song loudly to the jeers of the magical folk they passed by in their slow procession. 

“I had to work that night, remember? So my hen night was the weekend before?”

Nodding his head, Draco followed close behind her as she moved back across the kitchen and grabbed her wand to cast the charm that would clean them both. He was trying to put the blurry glimpses he had of the night into place but was having no luck. Hermione bit her lip as she swallowed a chuckle.

“You don’t recall any of it.”

“Just tell me what happened, already,” he growled.

“I got a Patronus from Harry heralding your arrival. Thank gods Ginny was away for a match because you bunch were so loud. Apparently, you were rather testy with the boys until they agreed to bring you here. They did and dumped you into my arms. You then proceeded to tell me how much you loved me and couldn’t wait to marry me. You told me you would give me anything.”

That sounded like something he would say, especially if he was incredibly drunk, as he was that night. Draco separated from her, but only briefly, to slide his trousers back on, before returning to her side to coil himself around her smaller frame. With her back to his chest and his arms around her stomach, he rested his chin on her shoulder.

It was a bit uncomfortable, since he towered over her, but it allowed him to luxuriate in the intoxicating scent of her conditioner.

“Then what happened?”

“You said I was much smarter than you—”

“Really? That hardly sounds like something I would say.”

“You were very drunk, Draco.” A silly grin crossed her face as she recalled the night.

“So, I said I would defer to you at work?”

“I told you that was what I wanted when you reiterated that you would give me anything.”

“You used my vulnerable state against me!”

She shrugged and her mouth quirked into a devilish grin that did things to his cock, regardless of his recent state of exhaustion.

“You were the one who wanted to see me so badly after we agreed to sleep apart the night before the wedding.” 

“I can’t believe you, witch.”

“Believe it, darling. It all happened. But, you haven’t even let me get to the best part.”

A long, tortured groan escaped him. What could possibly be worse than giving Hermione free rein to boss him around entirely?

“I got you settled into bed and went to the bathroom for no more than a minute. When I got back, I tried to climb in beside you. Do you know what your drunk arse did?”

Draco shook his head. He didn’t remember, but he hoped he didn’t make a complete fool of himself, like try to seduce her in his inebriated state.

“You pushed me off the bed!” Hermione started laughing so hard it took her several moments before she regained her composure enough to continue. “You told me that you were sure I was a nice enough witch, but you were engaged to be married, and you loved _your_ witch very much. So, apparently, I could kindly bugger off.”

She giggled again as Draco stared at her in horror. “When I told you that you were being ridiculous and got back on the bed, you leapt off of it as if the sheets shocked you. Then, you grabbed a pillow and settled on the floor. You were asleep before I summoned a blanket and cast a cushioning charm on the ground beneath you.”

“But… When I woke the next morning I was in your bed. You were up already, of course, but I distinctly remember reaching for you,” Draco said, finally regaining his voice.

The morning of the wedding started much like this morning had, now that he recalled it.

“I know. I figured you were nervous enough, and I didn’t want to give you a reason to be more embarrassed. I levitated you into the bed after I got up.”

A warmth spread through his body, replacing any delayed shame and self-consciousness.

“I love you, Hermione. How or why you put up with me, I’ll never know. Please know how grateful I am for you, though.”

Hermione turned in his embrace and wound her arms around his waist. Resting her chin on his chest, she looked up at him, and the adoration and affection that filled her eyes took his breath away.

“I do it because I love you, too, you idiot. Now, kiss me.”

“So demanding,” he retorted, even as he lowered his head to acquiesce.

She hummed contentedly as his lips met hers. His tongue dipped into her mouth to brush against hers, and she shuddered. Draco slid his hands from her back to grip her arse and pulled her against him. The evidence of his renewed arousal sat heavily against her stomach. When they finally broke apart, Hermione had the same needy, glazed look in her eyes that he knew so well. Her gaze flitted to the breakfast she had prepared, then back to his face, and down to his joggers.

“Let’s eat later,” she whispered. 

A sly smirk spread slowly across his face as she turned and led him back to the room. It seemed Draco would get to spend his morning in bed, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sweetestsorrows), [Tumblr](https://sweetestsorrows.tumblr.com/), and [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/sweetest_sorrows/).


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